


four stories of a time long gone

by mergwaine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Gwen-centric, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Love Letters, M/M, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Modern Era, Morgana-centric, alternative universe, mentions of mergwaine, past morgwen, slur (f slur)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mergwaine/pseuds/mergwaine
Summary: gwen recalls the past. she misses her. she writes about it.or, when guinevere and morgana escaped their realities for a limited amount of time.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Uther Pendragon/Vivienne (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	four stories of a time long gone

**Author's Note:**

> content warning: lesbophobia/biphobia, homophobia, saying of slurs (f slur), abusive household, mention of sex (but nothing graphic or nsfw), threats of violence.
> 
> this is my first morgwen fic!! hope yall enjoy it. it's very short and it's very.. well. weird.

_ My dearest Morgana, _

_ I write to you. Words are not enough to describe it, they’re not enough to make sense of it. This dread only grows inside of me, our story is one that complicated itself, and we both know why. This guilt is so weighty that it is bending my back. The evilness of time sent us in our own ways.  _

You came from the ocean. We were young, the wrinkles had not formed themselves yet. The sand was spread through the wind, you smiled and giggled, in a way as beautifully as ever. I touched your hand, and we ran. Our car was parked on the beach. We were all alone. But we were all alone with each other. You put your hair on the back, its waves were now diminished, for the waves of the sea had straightened it. Looking back, it was probably the only straight things within miles of distance. Yet, we did not know.

We runned until you were dry, and hopped in your dad's old convertible. It was past noon. It was 2005. And I loved every single aspect of that day. The heat in our legs, “Baby, I’m Yours” playing, Barbara Lewis blissfully singing into our ears. We moved our hands like we’ve seen Buffy and Faith do when we were 16 and reckless. Only we still were reckless, but not the Bible burning type. 

The clouds were illuminated by the pouring sun. It felt like Heaven was there. If only we could stretch our bodies, if only your wings could take me there. When we were on the roads, and you stopped the car for us to observe the sunset, I cried, you asked:

— What is it?

And I said, even without breath, even though my heart was filled:

— I’m just so fucking happy.

_ When night falls, I can not sleep. My heart beats faster, whilst I am alone here. I change the sides of the bed, I turn on the TV. Looking for your body, but it’s not there. There’s only the void left by the absence of you. Looking myself in the mirror, the phone on my hand.  _

Your family was yelling and screaming and fighting, as they usually do, and you came to me. To my house. I welcomed you, you were wearing a highlighter, and the prettiest of white dresses, it had pearls on it, it was made with perfect embroidery, with lonely parts of crochet. I was wearing my old snowy dress. I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself, and told you:

— We look like we’re going to marry each other.

You laughed, and told me it was true. I wished it was.

We went to the streets everyone went to that night. It was crowded. There were people from all around the world, you said this was one of the saddest New Years of your life. We listened to songs on your MP3, sharing my headphones. We stopped at one of the traffic lights, you said, your voice soft, teary:

— Gwen. I have something to tell you.

— Ok, tell me. — I responded smiling, you usually just told me whatever came up to your head. Whether it was the (you thought) stupidest thing in the world or the most nihilistic romantic question ever. 

You started tearing up. You looked so distant from me that night.

— I’m a lesbian. 

And I laughed. But it wasn’t mocking you, but you didn’t know it. I excused myself.

— No, no. Morgana, I’m not laughing at you. It’s okay. I’m happy you told me.

And I felt a rush in my heart.

— I don’t think I’m a lesbian, — I said, you looked confused. — But I... You know.

At the time, I was too much of a coward to say it. Yet, you figured it out, you smiled at me. 

10 minutes before midnight we ate a hotdog. It tasted like shit.

8 minutes before midnight you told me about a college essay you were working on. I don’t remember the title, but it was a study about love and it worked on a parallel between modern interpersonal relations and Plato’s Symposium. You were so excited talking about it. I felt so glad. Your mind made me feel so glad. I felt safe. “Here Comes The Sun” started playing on your mp3, but you disliked The Beatles, so I changed it to Chet Baker’s “Almost Blue”.

6 minutes before midnight you told me the reason why your parents were fighting.

4 minutes before midnight I clasped my hand with yours really tightly. The tears fell from your beautiful, heterochromic eyes, and I wiped them off with my fingers.

2 minutes before midnight we danced, men and women would have stared at us. But they were too lost waiting for the fireworks, too fixated in their own lives to notice us. To notice you, brighting as lightly as the Sun. But I’m glad they didn’t. You would blind them. You were laughing, so was I. I was a fool.

At midnight, we kissed. Or better, I kissed you.

_ I wished for you so badly, ill-like, and for you to be near was not enough. Our proximity did not give me anything, and I found myself lost on what was real, and what I had invented. I rewritten my remembrances, and let my hair grow, and now, I dedicate this beautiful confession of love. Not even the evilness of time can set me apart from you.  _

We packed our bags after our graduation. Your parents were asleep. You left only one note. You brought your toothbrush, I brought the blankets. They all fitted on our minivan, but your guitar occupied so much space. We laughed about it, but knew that it’d be a struggle after all. At 11 pm, we met at Merlin’s place. Everyone was there. Leon, my brother, Merlin, Gwaine, Freya. They all cried, they all hugged us. Elyan told me he loved me and that he’d miss me. It had been a few months since we started dating. We weren’t dying. We were just going home. 

I remember when we came out to them. How they reacted.. I remember Father Brennan, how he said I was sinful, how he said you were sinful. I remember you angry, and sad, and guilty. And I remember how I loved you that night, how I made sure that you knew that we weren’t wrong. That we were fucking goddesses. 

I recall a week ago before we ran away. How you told your parents. How they reacted. I was in the room next door. I remember Uther yelling at you. 

— Now it makes sense, — he laughed, — that’s why you defended those faggots! 

He was referring to Gwaine, who had only recently been out. Rumours spread quickly in their neighborhood. Vivienne wept and pleaded for him to forgive you, she promised you weren’t on your right mind; that you were deceived. In the end, he screamed, with brute force,

—This is your fault, Vivienne, you let her live so passively, to go to this fucking school, taking these classes, singing. You didn’t raise her to be a proper woman. Take this woman out of my living room, Vivienne. I hope God punishes you both for your sins. — he said, you got enraged. — You will go to your room! Now! — he yelled, and threw a cup of glass into the cemented wall.

Your eyes were red, filled with tears, you looked up to his face and said:

— And you, Uther, you’ll go to Hell. 

You stormed out of the kitchen, took me by the hand and kissed me. You whispered something. But I will not write it down. You remember, my dearest. And I left. You made me. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t feel secure, I was sorry, and so angry. And so, before I left, I said:

— I’ll take you out of this place. 

And you answered:

— I know you will. — and smiled.

And I did. After we went away, after their goodbyes, we never felt so happy. We wandered through the city streets, you were driving. The night started to get behind us, and the sun rose, or better, it bloomed. I remember we didn't talk that morning, we just smiled at each other and blushed every time the other stared. I loved you so much. I loved you more than you could ever know. You loved me too, I knew it, I felt it.

The first nights were the worst ones, struggling to adapt our sleeping schedule. Finding places to eat and shower. I remember that cold night. How you embraced me, and I hugged you, and in that moment, underneath those three blankets, there were only us in the whole world. The yellow-ish light pole that illuminated your face made you the prettiest woman on the planet, Morgana, and you smiled, and so did I.

— You love me. — you informed me. I smirked.

— I do. — I said, and you hugged my back, and I held your hand, and we slept that way.

Eventually we found ourselves. You sang and played your guitar for some money. I photographed some places. It is funny, after a few weeks of travelling into the countryside, we found ourselves in that small town, you will probably remember the name, but some of these little things are escaping from my mind as I get older. It ended with ville. We stayed there for a week. This couple were planning this small wedding, by themselves, away from their family and relatives. They couldn’t pay us much, so you played on their ( **really** ) small wedding for basically nothing, and I took the gifts. They let us sleep and shower in their home while we were in town.

A day before the wedding we went to a lake they had, it was called Avalon. It had this magnificent waterfall. We got in, the water was cold as fuck. But you laughed and joked about our cowardness, so I dived in, out of want to impress you. You got worried. I loved it. I took some pics with my instant camera. They were awful. But I loved them, nevertheless.

I miss you.

After a few months we settled down on the coast. I did some freelance jobs, took some pics. You sang every once in a while. There were the bad days, where you had to go with your guitar and play in the park for 50 bucks a day. And some days you wouldn’t get a thing. I remember the tight room. The bad food. 

I miss you.

I remember autumn leaves, the breath of you. It was october. You hold me. That halloween we got matching costumes. Our friends visited our bedroom. It wasn’t much of a house, then.

I miss you.

The years passed, and we came together. You said you loved me. You proposed. And I messed up. We messed up. We had our lives together. But I looked at you, and there was only bitterness. So I came to our room, you were tired, we had our first wrinkles. I kissed you. One last time. And said:

— I can’t do this anymore. 

I miss you.

_ I have told you many secrets, forbidden facts that weren’t my own. Rhymes from an old journal, that never belonged to me. Between many words unspoken, many words of love, our passion is ancient, and no time has passed at all. _

Eventually we were our own type of people. We went away. We kept some of our mutual friends. Others took a side. I never wished for it to be like that, but now I see. My children are in the room. They are trying to sleep. They will not until I tuck them in. But they like to pretend they’re grown up. I tell them stories of my past. How mommy runned away with someone she loved, and got to the beach and lived there for years. How mommy used to take photos and earn money with it. I showed them this pic, I’ll send it to you, with the letter. Or I won’t. I don’t know if this is a letter. Or if this is me, regretting.

You must’ve heard. No, I know you’ve heard. Arthur died. It’s been two years now. I thank God the kids were small. They don’t remember. How he died to save them. But he did. And I grief. I know how much you hated him. And you had your reasons, though I’m not going to bring them up. I loved him. I miss him. He died on those same waters. I know you’ve heard that too. It was in Avalon. 

I wish I could say I miss your touch the most, the intimacy of it, the sex. I don’t. I miss the talks. Even late at night. I miss not my fiancée, not my girlfriend. I miss my best friend too. I miss you. Talk to me. Reply to me. Find me in Vienna, before we get too old.    
  


  
  
  



End file.
